


Cages (temporary title)

by Pgthesaltygremlin



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Anorexia, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Blood and Injury, Body Dysphoria, Borderline Personality Disorder, Bullying, Child Abandonment, Cutting, Cyber Bullying, Deppression, Dysphoria, Eating Disorders, Flashbacks, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Medication, Night Terrors, Online Dating, PTSD, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Pills, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scars, Self Insert, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Self-Insert, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Toxic People, Trauma, impatient hospital, inpatient hospital, pedophila grandpa, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 06:54:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26847754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pgthesaltygremlin/pseuds/Pgthesaltygremlin
Summary: A self insert for myself to cope with my trauma and as a somewhat diary and journal for past experiences





	1. Disclaimer

**Author's Note:**

> There are a lot of trigger warnings here so please don’t read if your triggered by the tags on this work

This work of writing has a lot of triggers so be warned and don’t read if you get triggered by any of the tags in this story 


	2. Night terrors

_I’m falling, I’m falling deeper and deeper. It’s only when I open my eyes and feel the lush grass and dirt under my palms do I realize that I’m no longer falling anymore. Trees, lots and lots of tall, crooked trees are all I see when I look around at my surroundings. Trees with large, twisted and Spikey branches that stretch outwards in various ways, trees thaT appear to have hollowed in faces with dark eyes and a piercing toothy grin. It’s then that I realize where I am. I’m back at the place that I am dragged to oh so often. The dark and fear inducing forest that I’ve grown to hate so much. The place where I can’t escape. The place where I can’t escape **HIM**_

_it’s cold, but here it always is. The same bone chilling and skin numbing chill that never ceases. The grass under me though soft only servers as a small cushion as all around the grass fades to a mix of sharp stones, pebbles and gravel. I slowly get up and off of the ground as I’ve done so many times before. It’s quiet. But it’s not the nice type of silence. It’s the terrifying quiet before the storm. And by the storm I mean **HIM.** **HE** is the storm.   
_

_and just as if my minds a open book I hear the footsteps of someone. It’s him, his footsteps, the ones that make me break out in a full on sprint the moment I hear them break the silence every single time. My instincts waste no time kicking in, I’ve done this a million times, been here so many times that I have it all memorized like a simple shape. I never really think my body just takes off running, running through these crooked and tangly forest of trees. But as the saying goes -_ **you can never run fast enough in your dreams-** and here it’s no different. I can hear his footsteps getting closer. He’s chasing me. And he’s fast. Really fast.   
  


_I don’t bother looking behind me to see how close he is, I know because I’ve learned to tell that all by itself just from the sound of his feet and the sound of them when they crunch and snap leaves and twigs on the floor of this awful forest_

I know how this ends. It ends the same every single time. But every single time I try to hopefully get a different ending. Useless.

its not long before he’s caught up to me, grabbing me by the oversized and long hoodie I am often seen in. He tugs it tightly, causing me to loose my balance and stumble backwards and send me crashing to the forest floor. He slows to a walk, stopping in front of where I lay, helplessly curled up in a fetal position hopping that someone will save me, that something new and good happens but it’s never any good. He kneels down, grabbing me by the hair and pulling me up. He stands dragging me to a tree, my long brown hair gripped tightly and painfully in his fist. He throws me against the tree without care.

this. This isn’t even the worst part of this all.

he doesn’t even hesitate before slapping my cheek harshly and grabbing me roughly by my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. He loves seeing the pure terror and fear in my eyes, he relishes in the fact that I can’t fight back or stand up for myself. Because they...no he never taught me to stand up for myself. It’s always a blur of punches, kicks and slaps. His loud yelling and angry screams and shouts at me seemingly get louder and louder. And then the laughing. I can hear the horrible laughing, laughing and taunting me about how I’m weak. To weak to fight. To weak to fight back.

**TO WEAK TO WIN**


End file.
